On a Mission
by Cowstrikes
Summary: First fanfic! DoylexVan Rook M/M. While Doyle and Van Rook are getting info on Argost they run into some "complications" that could turn out to be more than they thought. Multi-chapter rated T for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Here is some Doyle/Van Rook fanfic because there is none. None at all. It's my first fanfic so please be gentle :D enjoy! And excuse my terrible spider puns…**

**EDIT: I've redone this chapter (the first chapter) because it was crap compared to the other ones. So I fixed my grammar, and changed some things around, so I hope you guys like! :D**

**Please Read and Review! **

"Shit." Doyle seethed as one of Munya's web shots him in the shoulder, pinning him to the wall behind him. His jet pack dug into his shoulder making the experience even more painful. He struggled to get the sticky substance off before Munya could get to him. Van Rook was off on the other side of the rooftop fighting the three wolf-like cryptids Argost and Munya had arrived with.

Doyle gave up trying to free his shoulder, ignored the pain in his shoulder, and pegged a concussion grenade at Munya hoping to slow the human- spider mutant. It didn't and Munya simply brushed off the small explosion the grenade caused. He grabbed the redhead by his shirt and threw him into the other mercenary.

The mercenaries recovered prepared to fight the creatures. Doyle tried to think of any advantages they had over Argost's cryptids. Both had jet packs. They were fairly good fighters. Doyle had a few concussion grenades... But on the downside they were low on jet pack fuel, and any assistance Zon could have given was out of the question. Her wing had been injured three days ago fighting more of Munya and more of Argost's minions. She was fit for flying, but any sharp turns or any other dodging maneuvers were out of the question, so they had sent her back for the Saturdays so they could take care of her.

Basically, they were shit out of luck. But it wasn't the first time and Doyle Blackwell had never backed down from a challenge before, and he certainly wouldn't stop now. He had promised his nephew, Zak, that he would find dirt on Argost's past. And Doyle wasn't one to break a promise either.

While Doyle was comparing advantages and disadvantages, Van Rook tried to guess which species of cryptids was about to attack them. The wolfish cryptids faces were similar to the Amaroks of Ellef Rignes but their bodies were much too thick. And the fur was a much deeper red too. His mental cryptid catalogues couldn't identify what they were.

Before Doyle and Van Rook could think further the creatures were on top of them, attacking viciously. Doyle expertly dodged another spider web attack from Munya only to be caught from behind by one of the "Mystery Cryptids."

"What are your webs not sticky enough to catch me yourself?" he growled as Van Rook used his jet pack to gain some air and kick the Mystery Cryptid in the head. Doyle, now freed, activated his own jet pack. "You can't even catch a fly!" He smiled as he flew through the air, and threw a concussion grenade, while dodging another one of Munya's attacks. "You're a real lousy spider!"

Van Rook sighed while powering up his miniature machine gun attached to his wrist. His ex-apprentice was so fond of throwing puns and verbal jabs at opponents. As he shot it at one of the cryptids he saw Doyle get hit by a web in the face. He couldn't be sure, but the Russian was pretty sure he heard a muffled shout of "Son of a bitch!" from the airborne redhead. Chuckling, Van Rook flew over to him. "He seems to be better than you think."

He received a frosty glare as Doyle was finally able to free his face from the sticky substance. "Ugh that tasted like crap." He complained as he pegged Munya with his own spider web. Unfortunately Munya had already shot a web which attached to Van Rooks feet, so as Munya tripped and fell the mercenary went with him. The approaching cryptids appeared to be angry with the work he did a minute ago with the mini machine gun. So he pulled some explosives out of his belt and threw them at the cryptids making them even angrier.

Running out of jet pack fuel, Doyle landed on the edge of the rooftop. As he landed a cryptid swung at him and scratched his face which then threw him off balance. With the last of his jet pack fuel Doyle jumped back up, grabbed the cryptid and threw it off the building. He watched as it hit the sidewalk below and slinked off growling.

He turned back to the fight in time to see Van Rook had been flung at him by Munya. The collision knocked him out of the air, and both flee into a small shop behind them. The force of Munya's throw was strong enough for them to break through the ceiling and land on some barrels on display in the store.

Van Rook was the first to regain his senses, in time to observe the multicolored powders still drifting in the air around them. The store smelled like Indian spices, so he could only assume that it was an Indian spice shop. There was also the fact that a thin Indian man, switching between German and Indian, was yelling at them for destroying his store.

He heard his younger ex-apprentice groan to his right. "Ow." He winced as he got up out of the crushed barrels. Van Rook followed suit and used his jet pack to fly up to the roof to re-engage in the fight. Doyle ran out of the shops front door, with the Indian man still yelling at him, and hoped to encounter Munya and the cryptids on the ground.

They were too late, as Argost was gazing down on them from his personal jet and laughing. "Greetings and beinvenue, but I'm afraid I can't stay long. You see I've gotten what I wanted and you'll never get it back now." He winked and cackled. Munya fired up the jet and the evil duo flew off. Van Rook and Doyle pursued them, but it was short lived. Doyle's jet pack weighed him down without fuel to power it, and Van Rooks was extremely low on fuel as well.

They regrouped and walked back to the hotel room that they had been renting out for the past week while they dug up information on Argost's past and his next target. Now it had all come to nothing, a whole week wasted. Van Rook could just feel the anger steaming from the red headed Doyle, as they walked side by side in seething silence.

**Boy, I hope I pulled off a good Argost there. ( EDIT: I thought it might be a little overdramatic and cheesy when rewriting but then I thought: Eh, it's Argost. It's fine.)Hope you enjoyed and please review! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay guys here's chapter 2! Just to warn you all here is the T-rated part ;) So please R&R! **

Van Rook sighed and finished drying his hair with a towel. When they had returned from fighting Argost, both of their pulses still racing, Doyle had immediately gotten into the hotel rooms shower still sulking over their loss. Now he was sleeping on the couch, he needed the rest. He had been working nonstop to find information, get in touch with contacts, and try to predict Argost's next move. Van Rook had to admire his dedication.

He sat down on the edge of the coffee table and ran his hands through his black and gray hair. Years of work as a mercenary had taken their toll on him. Especially recently. Money meant power. And that damn bitch Abbey had taken that power from him and stole his best paying client to top it off. Not that he was particularly fond of that client, just his money. To add insult to injury, now Van Rook wasn't even the one in charge. Doyle was the one who called the shots. His former apprentice. He had trained them both much too well.

After a few minutes of sitting he got bored so, he turned around to glance at Doyle who was still sleeping on the couch. Right now he sort of reminded Van Rook of a kitten. A very orange, feisty kitten. But if he said that out loud Doyle would definitely kill him though, because Van Rook had a sneaking suspicion He wasn't totally asleep yet.

Soon he couldn't take it anymore. His blood was still pumping from the fight, and he couldn't just keep sitting here anymore. He needed something to do. Out of boredom he spun around on the coffee table, but paused. He thought better of it, shrugged and began massaging Doyle's back who grumbled in acknowledgement and lay flat on his stomach. It was something to keep Van Rook from going insane, and Doyle had secretly been yearning for a massage anyways. Van Rook put pressure onto the muscles and moved his palms in small circles hoping to find something to occupy himself, while calming himself after the fight at the same time. Instead it did the opposite. His pulse beat faster, and his breathing became erratic. He started putting more pressure into the massage, moving deeper into the muscle, moving lower down Doyle's back.

Doyle moaned as the massage reached deep into his muscle tissue and Van Rook kept going deeper and deeper. As he went deeper he went lower to the base of the back and remained there for a few minutes working his hands into the tissue. His pulse was wild and was practically panting. He momentarily paused to look at Doyle's face which looked extremely relaxed. Then biting his lip he continued his massage, moving it even lower to the redheads butt. He closed his eyes and let out a small groan. He didn't know why he was doing this, but he couldn't stop. It felt so good, for the both of them.

This time Doyle moaned louder and longer. Unknown to Van Rook his heart was beating hard, and he was breathing faster as well. He didn't know why he was enjoying this so much either, but he wasn't about to stop the Russian man. Van Rook's hands roamed down further to the inside of Doyle's thighs, rubbing small circles near where they met. He was going back and forth between butt and thighs, when Doyle sat up and grabbed his hands away.

"I think back there is done." he said when the other mans eyes snapped open, surprised. "But my front could use a massage too." he smiled, and put Van Rooks hands on his thighs close to his crotch. "In the bedroom if you want." Doyle winked, glancing down to the dark haired mans lap. Van Rook looked down too and was surprised to find he had a boner. He felt his face burning, and cursed himself for becoming so embarrassed, and so turned on by... Doyle of all people.

"Come on. You're not the only one." he smiled, more gently this time and wrapped his hand around Van Rooks wrist. Doyle backed into the bedroom, bringing him along. Sitting on the edge of the bed he pulled Van Rook above him lifting up his black t-shirt as he did so. Once it was off Doyle moved back towards the head of the bed, guiding him there as well. While Van Rook moved Doyle's shirt up to his chest, the ginger kissed his collarbone and let his fingers roam over his muscled arms. The Russian man groaned and brought his lips to the skin underneath Doyle's ear, eliciting a moan and another smile.

They both knew where this was going, and it was going there fast. Before Doyle could reach for Van Rooks pants, the darker haired man stopped him. "Wait..." Doyle looked at him confused. "I've never... done this with... another man..." He managed to eke out. Doyle put his hands on the other man's face. "Don't worry. You'll be fine. It's not too hard. Well..." he smiled yet again, but this time it reminded Van Rook of the Cheshire Cat. "I might stand corrected." Doyle winked and lay back against the pillows. "Besides, aren't you supposed to be the mighty Van Rook? I thought you were supposed to be fearless or something?" Now he was just taunting him, and Van Rook played right into his hands. He saw the trap, but with the sound of the blood rushing in his veins and the sound of Doyle's breathing he couldn't listen to his mind at the moment.

Growling he roughly pushed the red heads hips onto the sheets. This surprised him, who let out one of the sexiest sounds Van Rook had ever heard. "Like it rough do you?" he chuckled, his Russian accent heavy. "It's true, I'm not afraid to admit it."Doyle replied, wrapping his arms around his neck.

After discarding pants and boxers they were at it, their foreheads pressed together, sweat forming on their brows. Both of them were hungrier for this than they had thought and they couldn't get enough. Doyle's moaning drove Van Rook completely out of control. The harder Van Rook thrust left Doyle wanting even more. But eventually they both came and tired out. The pair lay side by side, panting, and their legs still intertwined. Their burst of energy spent, they quickly fell into the deep world of sleep.

**Hoping to get Chapter 3 up sooner than it took me for this one! And if you're wondering I have a plot here that unfolds next chapter, so please follow! And please R&Rs are much appreciated! :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**Wow it has been a while since I updated this. But thanks to Monsieur Stoik's supportive review that I received yesterday, I decided to finish the third chapter and here it is! I'll really try to keep up with this but first I have to redo my first chapter. It's kind of crappy. Hope you enjoy, please read and review! :D**

Doyle slowly drifted back into consciousness. He was comfortable and warm. Really warm. It felt nice, but it was...odd. He slowly opened his eyes to find Van Rook's arm around him and the man himself had half of his body draped over him as well. Remembering the night before Doyle smiled, and tried not to laugh at how childish he seemed at that moment. He didn't want to wake the Russian man up just yet. He was still trying to figure out just how they had ended up here. The whole thing was just really odd and out of the blue. But Doyle wasn't complaining, he got up, got dressed, and walked out of the room to go make some phone calls.

Later after Van Rook had woken up; they were both in the living room area of their hotel room. Neither had said much, except to say good morning, and furtively snuck glances at each other. Doyle was tinkering with the jet packs at a table, while Van Rook ate breakfast on the couch. "So what are we doing today?" he asked, mouth full, and broke the awkward silence. Doyle didn't answer at first, merely kept working on the jet packs. After a few minutes he replied "Well I'm waiting for Gig and a few other contacts to call me back on Argost's next possible move. He said he'll try to call back around noon. And... I guess we should probably go back to that shop we destroyed yesterday."

"Why?" Van Rook snorted. "You've never gone to 'apologize' to store owners before after you've destroyed them. Have the Saturdays really turned you that soft?" he taunted.

"No. I just felt bad for the guy. There were no customers in his store. It was completely empty except for the owner yelling at us." Doyle pouted.

Van Rook laughed and agreed to go along for lack of nothing better to do, as well as to avoid any awkward conversations about the night before. They dressed in normal clothes instead of the usual suits they wore when they were in combat. Which was happening a lot more these days.

They both got dressed into civilian clothes in separate rooms, hoping to avoid any awkward moments to remind them of what had happened the night before. Doyle dressed in gray baggy pants that flowed loosely over black sneakers. On top he wore a thin, tight blue hoodie that showed off his muscles nicely, and he topped that with a dark, coal colored coat. Van Rook put on a plain white t-shirt, and a black leather jacket. He didn't bother putting on a jacket since he was much more used to cold and winter weather than Doyle was, because of his Russian lineage. On the bottom he put on dark straight leg jeans and dark tan work boots.

Dressed like this they set out down the street from the hotel to walk the few blocks to the Indian shop. Neither of them said a word until they were almost to the shop, and Doyle's stomach growled. "You haven't eaten yet?" Van Rook asked, a bit surprised. "Well I was nervous." was Doyle's only response.

"About what?" the other man inquired suspiciously. "About... Well about... Last night." Doyle responded quietly. Van Rook was even more surprised. He had never thought the cocky, confident, and vain Doyle Blackwell could be nervous about anything. Nervous was definitely not a word Van Rook would use to describe him. "You? Nervous? About last night? ... Why?" he probed. Doyle shrugged and avoided his eyes, a bit of pink showing up on his cheeks. Shy had never been a word the Russian would have used to describe him either. This whole situation was just odd.

"Well I suppose we had to talk about it sooner or later." Van Rook sighed. Doyle was just about to respond when his stomach growled again. "Over coffee?" he suggested. Van Rook smiled and agreed.

After coffee, some breakfast for Doyle, and a talk, they both felt less awkward around each other. They decided to see where it would go, but they both promised each other they wouldn't get too attached right away. Getting into a relationship might make work complicated, and give the enemy an advantage over them.

So they continued on to the Indian Spice Shop, except- Doyle stopped unexpectedly, almost tripping Van Rook in the process. He was about to demand to know why the redhead had stopped, but instead chose to follow his gaze when he saw Doyle's expression: wide-eyed and a little pale. When the Russian man saw what he was looking at he had the same expression too.

What they had thought at a quick first glance had said "Indian Spice Shop" really read "Indian Sex Shop." They both looked at each other, now infinitely more embarrassed than they had been just an hour or so beforehand. No wonder the local German townsfolk had been giving them strange looks. The whole town probably knew then as "Those Guys That Fell in (and Destroyed Part of) the Sex Shop."

Both of their faces turned a bright red as they tilted their heads down to avoid any eye contact with the locals, and headed across the street to the Indian shop. The men swore they heard some snickers behind them when they neared the door. Doyle stole a nervous glance at Van Rook and opened the door to find the Indian man yelling at them as if they had never left.

"How dare you destroy my shop! You are paying for all of this! All of it I tell you!" He screamed. "Whoa whoa. Whoa."Van Rook interjected. "All of it? Heh, real funny. Leonidas Van Rook does not pay property damage-" He was stopped by Doyle's surprisingly sharp elbow in his ribs and the even louder, if possible, yelling of the shop owner. "You two wasted all of my aphrodisiacs! Do you know how much that costs? Now I have to order more because your smelly butts fell in them!" The dark skinned man continued.

"W-Wait. That was that we fell into?" Doyle meekly interrupted the rant. "Yes! You wasted enough to last week's! Maybe even months!" At this both men's faces turned a deep red and neither could stand to look at the other out of pure embarrassment. "But by the look of things it's already started working on you both." The Indian said, suddenly calmer. He even seemed to be amused by the situation. To Doyle and Van Rook that didn't make it any better. They could feel their faces practically burning from the heat of embarrassment coursing through their cheeks.

"So h-how long will the... effects last?" Van Rook asked him. The smaller man looked them up and down. "The aphrodisiacs will run out of your system in about a week." He stated.

"A week! We don't have a week! We're wasting time as it is!-" Now it was Doyle's turn to be cut off by Van Rooks elbow in his ribs. "Well too bad, I wasn't the idiot who fell into the aphrodisiacs!" The shop owner said, irritated. "Now what's going to happen about the damage to my shop?"

"Well... Well get back to you on that." Doyle told him before walking out of the store. The man hmph-ed and walked back behind the counter when Van Rook followed suit.

When Van Rook got out of the store he was barely able to see Doyle, already at the end of the street. Noting how fast the redhead was walking, the Russian jogged to catch up to him. "Where are you going? The hotel's the other way." He panted, having to jog a block to catch up to him.

"We need groceries." Was the only answer he received, so he shrugged and followed along. At least they would have some time to think about what they had learned before going back to the hotel room.

**So there we are. I don't really know how I feel about this chapter but overall I'm getting good vibes about it. Again please read and review guys!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Wow guys another chapter, how about that? I must be real motivated this week. This one is from Doyle's point of view because I thought it would be fun to get his thoughts in there (and the rest of it is pretty much from Van Rooks p.o.v.). So read on and enjoy!**

Doyle plopped the groceries down on the counter and snuck a glance back at Van Rook who was struggling to get through the door with a giant load of groceries. Looking back down at the countertop he thought back to what the Indian shop owner had said. _Enough aphrodisiacs to last weeks._ Shit. They didn't have that long. Argost could have taken over the world by then, and then some. They had already been wasting time as it was. The more time he wasted, the more danger his family could be in. From Argost, from the Secret Scientists, from anybody.

Van Rook dropped his groceries down on the counter next to Doyle. He slowly moved to the opposite side of the counter away from the larger man. _Aphrodisiacs._ Damn. And he was even starting to hope that maybe they, someday, could maybe be- No. That would just be weird. Seriously, he dated Drew in college. That would be completely... wrong. Though Doyle had to admit he must have been good looking in college. Back when the mercenary was younger. Dark hair, strong chiseled jaw line, muscular build.

He shook himself out of his thoughts to find the man himself staring at him with an odd expression on his face. "What?" Doyle asked his tone defensive. "Nothing." Was the reply as Van Rook turned around to put something in the hotel room's fridge, thus breaking off any eye contact. Doyle took this chance to let his eyes roam, taking in Salk that was there. Strong back, beefy arms, and through all the fighting and hunting down information, he was actually regaining his former in-shape abs. When they had first started out on the hint for information together, Doyle had to admit was a bit surprised at Van Rook being out of shape. He suspected it was a beer belly but the stubborn Russian man wouldn't admit it.

But now that he was almost back to the peak physical shape he wasn't looking too bad. Wait. No! Why was he thinking about this? It must be the aphrodisiacs talking. He mentally shook himself again. He really needed to stop thinking about this. But he couldn't. They were in the same hotel room together, sharing the same breathing space. Even if he left his mind still wandered to him and-

And Doyle suddenly realized the object of his thoughts was standing directly in front of him, giving him an odd stare. The smaller man instinctually moved to backed away but was stopped when Van Rook moved in closer, placing his hands on Doyle's hips. He was about to push him away when the dark haired mans lips met a sensitive spot on the side of his neck just beneath the ear. "W-What are you doing?" He mustered up as Van Rook softly bit the sensitive area. "I-It's just t-the d-drugs." Doyle said as he melted into Van Rooks touch more quickly than he would have liked. "Well we're not doing a very good job of fighting them are we?" Was the smooth response, as he lifted the redhead onto the counter.

Doyle subconsciously wrapped his arms around Van Rooks shoulders in response to the motion. This caused him to lean into him giving the Russian more access to his neck. "But... But... Ungh... T-time..." It was hard to argue when Van Rooks tongue was caressing the side of his neck. "I don't know about you, but I don't feel like getting to urge to grind you into the ground in the middle of another fight." He said, biting the sensitive spot again but harder which caused Doyle to moan. He just had to put it like that? It was getting harder and harder for him to make up and argument let alone speak. Especially with the deep accent of his. Was it weird that he was turned on by that? Doyle's thoughts were cut short by another even harder bite. "_It's time for some retaliation._" He thought.

His lips found the muscle between neck and shoulder, and he ran his tongue along it. Not long after Doyle heard a groan in his ear, as the biting momentarily stopped. Smiling, he gently bit down into the flesh causing the almost forgotten hands on his hips to tighten their grip and begin to move his shirt upward. Doyle's breathing hitched and he felt the breath of Van Rooks smile on his neck. "This means war." Doyle thought as he began to kiss and bite up the other mans neck. This elicited several more groans from the Russian.

Soon Van Rook was on the counter as well, moving over Doyle. They continued bruising each other necks while their hips clashed together, both of their members seeking friction and attention. Doyle reached for the bigger mans belt buckle first and quickly got to undoing the button of Van Rooks pants. Before he could go further he was interrupted. "Don't you want to go somewhere... more comfortable?" Van Rook asked.

"We're already here aren't we? Besides this counter needed defiling anyways." The redhead smiled, his warm breath hitting Van Rooks ear. And after that point the Russian man had to refrain himself from completely ripping off Doyle's clothes and breaking the counter (and him) right there and then.

**So there it is. That poor, poor, counter. Now it will never be used in a fancy kitchen because it's DIRTY. WITH SEX. So please, tell me what you guys think! Don't be strangers! :D**


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